


Twenty-One Candles

by parenthetical, sarkymoocow (parenthetical)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, black sisters, post-HBP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-03
Updated: 2006-03-03
Packaged: 2017-10-02 00:51:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parenthetical/pseuds/parenthetical, https://archiveofourown.org/users/parenthetical/pseuds/sarkymoocow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-one candles, and twenty-one moments when the world changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty-One Candles

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a present for the lovely mary_re on her twenty-first birthday.

**I**

She slammed the door of the dark and empty house behind her, and didn't waste her time and strength placing a locking charm on it. It wouldn't delay them for more than a second. If the house had had wards, protections, perhaps she would have been able to do something, but this was - had been - a Muggle house.

And she had no time or strength to spare if she wanted to survive this.

She looked around wildly. There was no way she could hold the whole house. _Where would the owners have kept...?_

She spotted the kitchen through the door to her left, and darted inside to rummage frantically through the drawers. After a few moments, however, not finding what she sought, she abandoned her search and raced back out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

_No time. They'll be here any_ -

The sound of the front door being blasted apart interrupted her thought as she rounded the corner onto the upper floor. Plunging into the nearest room, she closed the door behind her as quietly as she could. This time, she did cast a locking charm. She couldn't hold the house, but she had to hold this room for as long as she could.

There was nowhere else left for her to run.

She turned, breathing hard, and leant against the door to look at the room where she was probably going to die. It was an unremarkable Muggle bedroom, with faded floral wallpaper and a worn patch on the carpet near the door. She saw almost none of that, however; her attention was caught entirely by an innocuous object on the bedside table.

_Oh dear sweet merciful Merlin, thank you_.

She lunged across the room and snatched the candle out of its holder to examine it. It was a plain white Muggle candle, and had already been burnt halfway down, but it was better than she had dared to hope for.

The sound of voices from the floor below and footsteps starting up the stairs reminded her how little time she had. Kneeling hastily in the middle of the floor, she pressed the tip of her wand to the palm of her left hand.

"_Diffindo_," she murmured softly, and shifted her grip to allow the blood to drip onto the candle. Carefully, carefully, forcing herself to concentrate completely, she began to chant the words of the protection ritual.

A simple Muggle candle like this - and one already half-used, for that matter - would not be able to channel a great deal of power in most spells. But the very simplicity of this old ritual meant that the shield it created would at least last longer than she would in a fight with the Death Eaters hunting her. Long enough, perhaps, for help to arrive. Perhaps.

"..._in obscurum_," she concluded her incantation, and the candle began to burn. A warm glow spread out from it, and she exhaled sharply, focusing her will and her magic on the flame, feeling the ritual's protection stabilise in a sphere around her.

The locking charm failed at that moment, and the door burst inwards.

Andromeda Tonks took another deep breath and smiled up at her sister, whose cold eyes were as familiar as always, despite the mask she wore. "Hello, Bellatrix."

Bellatrix's answering curse rebounded off the candle's protective glow, and Andromeda tried to hide the flash of her relief. She had not been completely certain until that moment that the ritual would be strong enough to hold off the Death Eaters' spells.

"Pathetic," Bellatrix whispered. "Look at you, Andromeda. Look where your choices have led you. On your knees in a Muggle house, with just minutes until your little ritual fails and I finally kill you. I should have done it long ago, no matter what Narcissa thought."

"Lovely to see you too, sister," Andromeda murmured.

"You're no sister of mine," Bellatrix said sharply. "You're a blood traitor, and we cast you out. We found your little accomplice, incidentally. How did you lure him away from our Lord's service?"

Andromeda managed a laugh. "He figured out that he'd fallen in with a group of lunatics all by himself, Bella. Believe it or not, I was more furious at him than you when he turned to me for help." She took a deep breath and focused on the candle, which had begun to flicker slightly.

"Not long now," Bellatrix observed cruelly. She gestured to the small group of Death Eaters gathered behind her. "Wait downstairs; there's no way for the traitor to escape, and she is mine to kill."

Andromeda did not deceive herself for a moment that Bellatrix was sending the others away in order to let her escape. Narcissa might have done so, but Bellatrix was a fanatic.

They waited in silence now, Bellatrix eyeing the candle's flame hungrily, Andromeda willing it to continue burning steadily.

Suddenly Bellatrix gasped. Andromeda glanced up, startled, and saw her sister frantically push back her left sleeve.

The Dark Mark on her forearm was _fading_.

Andromeda thought she could hear a faint wailing sound, and then a dark cloud seemed to fall over the room. A roaring wind tore at her hair and the furniture.

"_Master_!" Bellatrix screamed.

The candle burned out, and then the wailing and the wind were gone, and Andromeda was left shocked and staring into Bellatrix's horror-stricken eyes.

Bellatrix blinked once, then raised her wand and cried, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Andromeda threw herself sideways and rolled half-under the bed, feeling the curse miss her by inches. She braced herself for the next one, but instead heard the loud _crack_ of Bellatrix Disapparating.

Slowly, Andromeda let out a shuddering breath and got to her feet, then reached up with one hand to touch the gold locket around her neck.

Bellatrix hadn't even mentioned the locket. Was it possible that the Dark Lord was unaware that it was missing? Or had Regulus been mistaken about its significance?

She shook her head slightly and set those thoughts aside. The important thing now was to get as far away from here as possible. And then... then she could start looking for her family.

A _crack_, and Andromeda was gone.

**II**

Running out past Hogwarts' anti-Apparition wards, Draco had only a moment to think before he Apparated, and there was no real choice involved. There was only one place he knew well enough to Apparate to when his head was spinning like this.

_Crack_.

The wards of Malfoy Manor opened to him, and he stumbled up towards the front door. Before he reached it, his mother threw it open, rushed down the steps and threw her arms around him, hugging him close in a way she hadn't for many years.

Draco clung to her tightly and realised dimly that he was crying.

~*~

Narcissa Malfoy had been waiting all evening for word of whether or not her son had succeeded in the impossible task the Dark Lord had given him. Draco had not revealed the full details of his plan to her or, as far as she knew, anyone else, meaning that there was little she could do to assist him, other than the promise she had extracted from Severus Snape.

She hated feeling so helpless. She disliked being forced into such open gambles. She had always preferred to manipulate from the shadows. But her son's life was her highest priority, and if that meant striking a bargain with Snape and risking the Dark Lord's wrath, so be it.

Finally she felt her son Apparate through the wards, and rushed outside to meet him. _Alive. Thank Merlin, he's alive_.

She held him for a while as he wept, then brought him inside and dispatched a house-elf to fetch him a warm drink with a calming potion in it. Draco drank it distractedly, his hands trembling, and Narcissa controlled the protective fury that made her want to break things.

"Draco," she murmured, and touched his face gently. Draco blinked, and looked at her. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Her son swallowed hard, and slowly, falteringly, began to tell her. How he'd finally managed to mend the Vanishing Cabinet. How the Death Eaters had entered Hogwarts and attacked. The confrontation with Dumbledore, and how Snape had killed him.

"I'm sorry, Mother, I'm sorry," he choked out, crying again. "I couldn't kill him, I just - I'm sorry..."

"Hush," Narcissa said softly, and hugged him once more. "You did well, Draco. The Dark Lord did not expect you to do half so well. I am proud of you."

Draco struggled to get himself under control. "Won't he - won't he be angry that I didn't kill Dumbledore? Even if he didn't expect me to succeed - Mother, I don't want him to hurt you!"

Narcissa sighed. Draco was right. The Dark Lord was unpredictable, but she suspected he would not allow that to pass even in his satisfaction at Dumbledore's death. Draco had performed impressively enough this year to save his own life, she suspected. But when the Dark Lord learned that Severus had been the one to kill Dumbledore - and discovered the deal she had made - he would probably decide to kill her.

Her mind raced frantically, trying to find a way out of this situation, and failed. Bellatrix would seek to protect her from other Death Eaters, but she would never cross her master. Lucius was still trapped in Azkaban. Severus owed her nothing now. If she tried to run, they would simply hunt her down.

She took a deep breath and calmed herself. So the game would end for her. She could still try to ensure that Draco would survive, and perhaps even win his game, in time.

Her son was staring at her, his eyes wide and panic-stricken. Narcissa managed a grim smile for him. "There is no predicting how the Dark Lord will react, my son. Whatever happens, however, it will be a result of my actions, not yours. You must be strong, Draco. You've done well, and I'm proud of you. Remember that."

The wards chimed an alert that a group of people had just passed through the wards without asking permission, and Narcissa and her son both stiffened.

~*~

Despite what his mother had said, Draco would have nightmares about the events of that night for the rest of his life.

As the wards fell silent, his mother rose and took out her wand. Draco scrambled to his feet and hastily dried his face. "Mother -" But before he could say anything more, the door opened, and the Dark Lord was there.

Draco had lived in terror of meeting the Dark Lord again since he'd been brought before him the previous summer, when the Dark Lord had assigned him his task and told him what would happen if he failed. Gazing around wildly, Draco saw that there were perhaps a dozen Death Eaters with him. Snape was among them, his face tense. His Aunt Bellatrix was there too, looking paler than he'd ever seen her.

_Merlin_.

Trembling slightly, Draco pulled himself together and followed his mother's example, bowing deeply to the Dark Lord.

"You exceeded my expectations, young Malfoy," the Dark Lord said softly. "Dumbledore is dead, and you found a way to bring my Death Eaters into Hogwarts. You have performed adequately enough to win your life."

For a moment, Draco almost dared to hope.

"However," Voldemort continued, "you failed to complete the task I assigned you, despite having the opportunity to do so. That is... most disappointing. Do you recall the consequences I promised, if you were to fail?"

Draco wanted to speak, beg, plead, anything, but he was frozen, so close to panic that he could not even open his mouth.

"I warned you," the Dark Lord said quietly, "that I could extinguish your mother's life like a candle. You should have considered that before you chose not to kill Dumbledore." He raised his wand. "_Avada Kedavra!_"

There was a searing moment of screaming, green-coloured madness in Draco's mind, and when it passed he was kneeling beside his mother's crumpled body. Her eyes were open and empty.

He realised half-abstractedly that he was not crying, or yelling, or screaming. Instead, he was numb, as if he'd just crashed through a thick layer of ice.

"Bring him, Severus," he heard Voldemort saying. "If he learns the proper lessons from his error tonight, he may yet become an adequate Death Eater in time."

Draco stood before Snape could touch him, and kept his mind carefully blank. Deep, deep inside, however, part of him whispered, _Like hell, you bastard_.

**III**

Harry glanced up from his book as the candle flickered.

It was a horribly ugly candle, shaped like the Eiffel Tower and coloured red, white and blue; Aunt Marge had brought it back from one of her holidays as a present for Dudley. In one of the very few signs of good taste that Harry had ever witnessed in him, Dudley had immediately relegated it to the back of a cupboard in his second bedroom.

But it was the only candle that Harry had been able to lay his hands on without attracting the Dursleys' attention, so its appearance was irrelevant. What was important was that he avoid using magic until he turned seventeen. After his little talk with Scrimgeour at Dumbledore's funeral, Harry suspected that the Ministry would jump at any opportunity to put pressure on him. Underage magic in a Muggle household would be enough for them to inconvenience him, even if Harry had simply cast _Lumos_ in order to read when the Dursleys expected him to be asleep in bed, not running up their electricity bill.

So Harry had lifted a box of matches from the kitchen and had been spending the summer nights reading by candlelight. Tonight he'd left the window open - several owls would probably be arriving around midnight - and that was making the flame flicker. He carefully shifted the candle to a more sheltered spot, and returned to his book on the first war against Voldemort.

He hadn't wanted to return to the Dursleys, not even for the month until his seventeenth birthday, but he had promised Dumbledore that he would, and he wasn't about to break that promise. And really, the Dursleys hadn't been that bad this year; they clearly remembered some of the things Dumbledore had said and done the previous summer, and had avoided Harry as much as possible. But sitting and waiting had never been Harry's strong suit. He was very glad that he would be able to leave tonight.

Hedwig swooped through the window, and Harry smiled, accepting the parcels she was carrying and giving her an owl treat. A few moments later, Pigwidgeon flew in too.

The clock in the hall began to chime midnight.

Harry closed his book with a snap and put both it and the unopened parcels in the packed trunk sitting beside his bed. He fed the owls and sent them off, then looked around thoughtfully and drew his wand.

A quick extinguishing spell, and the candle went out. A moment later, there was a _crack_. When the Dursleys finally worked up the courage to investigate ten minutes later, the room was empty.

**IV**

The betrothal ritual was simple, ten-year-old Pansy Parkinson reminded herself sternly, trying to quell her nervousness. Her parents had rehearsed it with her again and again, and she knew every word and every gesture by heart.

There was nothing to be nervous _about_. She'd had years to get used to the idea that she would one day marry into the Malfoy family. It was a good match, her parents said so all the time. This had all been agreed years ago; the ceremony today was a mere formality.

Besides, it wasn't like she was getting _married_. She could dissolve the betrothal at any time, if she chose to do so. Not that she would, of course, because it was a good match and it had been agreed for years and her parents expected her to make them proud, but still, the possibility was there.

So really, there was no reason at all for her hand to be shaking as she took up her position opposite Draco Malfoy, because she certainly wasn't nervous in the slightest.

She took vague consolation in the fact that Draco looked a bit paler than usual. _He_ was nervous. Ha! She suddenly felt much better about the whole thing.

Their fathers came forward from the north and south, and conjured a white candle to hover in the air between her and Draco. Then their mothers approached from the east and west, and lit the candle together.

Pansy remembered what she had been taught and held her left hand out imperiously above the flame. Draco took it and began his incantation. The boy had the longest part of the ritual, and he had to say his incantation first, Pansy's parents had taught her. Pansy wasn't sure how she felt about that. She deeply resented any idea that he was more important than she was, just because she was a girl. On the other hand, she was quite glad that she didn't have to go first.

She took a deep breath and concentrated. She could see the bond forming as Draco spoke, curving out of the candle and looping around his wrist. It would be her turn in a moment.

Draco finished, and Pansy took a deep breath. "I, Pansy, of the House of Parkinson, do hereby solemnly pledge myself..." She was careful to speak clearly, but she had practised reciting the words so often that she no longer needed to focus on them. Instead she watched the magic loop around her wrist and merge with the bond around Draco's wrist. It... tingled.

"...or death," she concluded, and caught her breath as the candle suddenly blazed and vanished. The bond sank into her skin and vanished also, although she could still feel a tingling deep inside her. She looked across at Draco and saw that he looked slightly off-balance, too.

Their families were applauding quietly.

Pansy shook her head to clear it, and tugged Draco with her to receive the congratulations of their parents and future parents-in-law.

**V**

"Draco," Snape said quietly, "a word with you, please."

Draco stopped and turned around slowly. Severus Snape was standing in a doorway down the corridor. His face gave nothing away.

"Of course, sir," Draco said blandly, and followed him into the room. He did not flinch when Snape closed and locked the door, but he did reinforce his Occlumency shields and readied himself to draw his wand if needed. He trusted Snape more than anyone else at the Dark Lord's headquarters, but that meant next to nothing.

Snape simply studied him for a moment, then nodded and walked across to the workbench set up in the corner of the room. "When you leave, there are two things you must take with you."

Draco started despite himself. "Leave?" he asked, and cursed the catch in his voice.

"You have succeeded better than I expected at concealing your intentions," Snape said, extinguishing the golden candle above which his cauldron was suspended, and decanting the cauldron's contents into a small bottle with a wave of his wand. "But I have known you and your family for a number of years now. And I have a certain... familiarity with the position you find yourself in. I have known since your mother's death that you would leave, although I do not know the details of your plans. Nor do I wish to." He capped the bottle, then turned to face Draco again. "Or do you honestly intend to continue following the Dark Lord and try to earn the Dark Mark?"

Draco forced himself to take a deep breath, his thoughts racing. He didn't trust Snape, this could be a trap - but Snape could have sprung this trap months ago, and hadn't.

"He murdered my mother," he said eventually, voice barely above a whisper. "She died because of me."

"She died because he decided to kill her," Snape corrected him sharply. "Believe me, Narcissa knew very well the risks she was taking. You were a factor, yes, but he had a lot of reasons for killing her. He was sending a number of object lessons - to your aunt Bellatrix, your father, me, and most his other Death Eaters, too. It was not directed solely at you."

"What do you want?" Draco asked numbly. He couldn't stand talking about his mother's death.

"To give you some advice," Snape said, accepting the shift in subject with equanimity. "Do it soon, before anyone stumbles across your plans. Do not go to the Ministry - go directly to Potter, if you can." His lips narrowed with distaste. "He is, unfortunately, the only one Dumbledore fully informed about his plans to defeat the Dark Lord."

Draco felt his heart skip oddly. "Potter will never believe me." He remembered Potter's curse slicing into his chest the previous year, and swallowed. "I'm not sure I can go to him."

"You have no choice," Snape snapped. "It is Potter or the Dark Lord at this juncture, and you've already ruled out one of those options. Potter may take some convincing, but he is the only one who can defeat the Dark Lord, and thus the only one who can help you. And you need his help, whether you like him or not."

"You said there were things I would need to take with me," Draco said, trying not to scowl. He hated being lectured.

Snape eyed him for a moment, but nodded. "Potter is searching for a number of objects. We've no time for me to explain why. One of them is located in this building. I cannot reach it, but you will need to do so, and take it to him."

Draco had so many questions that he didn't know where to begin. "What is it?"

"A cup," Snape said. "A golden cup with a badger on it. It's in a warded room in the dungeons. You need to retrieve it. Give it to Potter, together with this potion." He handed him the small bottle.

Draco stared at the shimmering liquid. "What does this do?"

"It will undo what has been done to the cup," Snape said obscurely. "We've no time for long explanations, Draco. People will grow suspicious if you stay here much longer. Keep the potion hidden. Take it and the cup with you when you leave."

Draco tucked the potion inside his robe, and stared at Snape. "Why are you doing this?"

Snape turned abruptly away and began tidying up his workbench. "In repayment of certain debts I owe, you could say. That will be all, Draco. Good night."

A wave of his wand undid the locking charm on the door.

There were many more questions that Draco wanted to ask, but he knew no answers would be forthcoming. "Good night, sir," he murmured, and left.

**VI**

Hermione laughed at Mr and Mrs Weasley dancing in the middle of the lawn. Ron had buried his head against her shoulder in despair, but she could feel him shaking with laughter too.

The wedding had been beautiful. Fleur had been radiant, of course, and Bill had looked better than he had since the attack on Hogwarts. Now the reception in the Weasleys' garden was well underway; most of the guests were more than slightly drunk and dancing beneath the candles that had been charmed to float above the lawn.

She turned back to the conversation she'd been having with Harry. She was so glad that he was there with them; she wished that he had taken up the offer to stay at the Burrow at least for that night, but he'd declined with a smile.

"So what is this house like?" she asked. "I hope it's well protected, Harry. Do you want me to research wards?"

Harry grinned at her. "It's... well, it's just a house, really. The last tenants have left all sorts of tacky pictures on the walls, dodgy potpourri and candles and stuff. It's okay, though. I'm not likely to be spending all that much time there. And no, it isn't warded, but -" he raised a hand to delay her reaction, "but, I discussed that with Tonks and Remus. Wards would just be more likely to attract attention. Hardly anyone knows where I'm staying, and I intend to keep it that way."

Ron finally raised his head from Hermione's shoulder. "I hope that's not you trying to weasel your way out of inviting us over, Harry." He caught sight of his parents dancing again and gave a horrible groan. "I am going to be _blind_ before this night is over, I swear!"

Hermione laughed at him, but Harry was suddenly leaning forward to stare across the lawn, and then jumped to his feet.

"What is -" Hermione began, then abruptly broke off.

The Dark Mark was forming above the house, and even as she watched, dark, hooded figures were streaming out onto the lawn towards the guests.

Harry was already running towards them, she saw, shaking off her shock. She and Ron exchanged horror-stricken glances and followed him.

Screams echoed across the garden; some of fear, some of agony, some of grief.

~*~

Hermione tightened her arms around Ron. His head was buried against his shoulder again, but he was shaking with tears now, not laughter.

She wanted to be grateful that he was alive, that she and Harry were too, but the horror of how many loved ones they'd lost was too overwhelming.

She glanced across to where Harry was kneeling next to Ginny's body. He was not crying; he was simply staring at her, as if memorising every detail. Hermione desperately wanted to hold him, but Ron needed her more, and she needed him too.

Closing her eyes, she concentrated on simply whispering "I love you, I love you, I love you" as Ron wept.

Some time later, she opened her eyes again as Harry touched her arm and laid a hand against Ron's back. He met her gaze for a long moment, then whispered, "Look after each other."

Hermione nodded, choking on her tears, and Harry squeezed her arm once before walking away.

**VII**

Thirteen-year-old Narcissa Black was not entirely surprised when she rounded the corner of a third-floor corridor near Hogwarts' North Tower and found her sister Andromeda kissing a Ravenclaw Mudblood.

She'd long since realised that her sister was not loyal to most of the ideals the Black children had been raised to believe in, so while it was disgusting to see her sister with a Mudblood, it was not the shock it might have been. She was mildly surprised that Andromeda had been stupid enough to do such a thing in public where she could be caught, however. If it had been Bellatrix who had seen her, the reaction would have been...

Narcissa shook her head. Sometimes she despaired of her elder sisters. She loved them dearly, but neither of them had any grasp of _subtlety_.

She kept on walking, straight past her sister, as if nothing was out of the ordinary, but close enough for Andromeda to see her. Sure enough, her sister pulled back from the Mudblood with a gasp, paling. "Cissy!"

Narcissa kept going and did not respond. Let Andromeda panic for a time while Narcissa gave some thought as to what to do about this situation.

~*~

Dinner dragged on interminably. Narcissa did her best to ignore the hopelessly obvious way Andromeda was fidgeting further down the table and the pleading glances she kept shooting at Narcissa. _Sometimes I really think she should have been a Gryffindor, honestly._

Bellatrix's potential reaction was not the main problem, she concluded, sipping her pumpkin juice. Bella was an idealist; she wouldn't notice that Andromeda had got mixed up with a Mudblood, because to her the notion was completely unthinkable. If Andromeda avoided snogging him in the middle of the Great Hall, it would be quite a while before Bella figured out that something was going on. The same was true of their parents.

No, the main issue was Lucius Malfoy.

She didn't know what her parents had been thinking, betrothing _Andromeda_ to the Malfoy heir. Oh, she knew how important they considered the idea of an alliance with the Malfoys, and Andromeda was the closest in age to Lucius, but still! Perhaps, she decided charitably, they'd thought that having such a clear and promising future in front of her would settle Andromeda down. The damage was done, at any rate. Sooner or later, Lucius would learn that his intended was involving herself with Mudbloods, and the Malfoys would dissolve the betrothal.

She looked up casually and saw Lucius glance at her fidgeting sister and then turn his gaze on her.

Their eyes locked for a moment, and then Lucius smiled faintly and nodded to her before turning his attention back to his meal.

Narcissa felt her heart beating faster. _He knows. He already knows, I'm sure of it._

Which opened up a whole range of other interesting possibilities.

Narcissa murmured an excuse about a headache to her friends and slipped away from the table. This was going to require some real thought.

She could feel Lucius's eyes on her as she left the Hall.

~*~

Less than half an hour later, Andromeda came knocking on the door of Narcissa's dorm.

"Cissy," she began nervously, "I realise you probably don't approve. I know that -"

Narcissa kept her expression blank and listened. It was amazing, she always found, what people would tell you that way; they rushed in to fill the silence you left. Narcissa was the youngest of the Black sisters, and she'd always found observing and manipulating from the shadows to be far more effective than Bellatrix's way of issuing orders and making demands or Andromeda's way of stridently challenging everything around her.

"You're worried that I'll tell Bellatrix," she said finally, when Andromeda paused for breath. "Or our parents. Is that it?"

Andromeda looked torn for a moment, then nodded. "They'll just get upset, and there's really no need to hurt them like that. This could just be our secret."

Narcissa almost rolled her eyes. She was thirteen, not three.

"Also," Andromeda said in a rush, "there's something else. Lucius. Cissy... would you help me by distracting him a bit?"

Narcissa stared at her. That she had not expected. "What do you mean?"

Andromeda waved one hand vaguely. "Perhaps you could talk to him a bit? Or keep him occupied somehow when I'm meeting Ted? If Lucius finds out... I'll tell him eventually, I promise, but there's no reason to cause a big scene now."

Discarding the notion of telling Andromeda that Lucius already knew, Narcissa considered her request. Well, she'd wanted an opportunity to speak with him. And this way Andromeda would owe her another favour.

"All right," she said after a moment. "If I keep quiet about your... indiscretion, for now, and try to distract Lucius, will you do something for me?"

She could see both relief and wariness in Andromeda's eyes. At least she knew Narcissa well enough to not say 'of course' immediately. "What do you want me to do?"

"There's a couple of books I'm interested in, but they're in the Restricted Section. I want you to get hold of them for me." It was true enough. She understood why their parents had insisted on sending them to Hogwarts, but it was lamentably difficult to study the Dark Arts in any depth there.

Narcissa had no real interest in letting Bellatrix and her parents know about how far down the road Andromeda had gone to becoming a blood traitor - yet. She loved her sister, and Andromeda might yet see reason. And then there was the issue of Lucius Malfoy.

Andromeda hesitated a moment, then nodded. "I'll try."

Narcissa didn't bother to issue a threat along the lines of "try hard", simply listing the names of the books.

"Thanks, Cissy," Andromeda murmured, and left in a rush.

After a moment, Narcissa sighed and lay down on her bed.

If the betrothal between Lucius and Andromeda was dissolved, she would face a rather interesting choice. Her parents would almost certainly ask her to marry him instead, if the Malfoys were willing to accept her.

Yes, she would definitely have to talk to Lucius as soon as possible.

~*~

It was almost eight months later when the Mudblood Ted Tonks kissed Andromeda Black in the Great Hall, immediately after dinner, beneath the stars and the floating candles and the outraged gaze of Andromeda's sister Bellatrix.

Narcissa and Lucius nodded imperceptibly to each other before he left the table to Owl his parents. Narcissa sat still, kept her face blank, and let other people rush in to fill the silence.

**VIII**

Draco Malfoy stared up at the Dark Mark hovering overhead, and allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes.

It had been three months since that disastrously triumphant night at Hogwarts, when he'd succeeded and failed and been forced to confront too many unpleasant truths at once, since the consequences of both his success and his failure had come home to roost. It felt like a lifetime ago.

_Mother. Forgive me._

He'd thought about her a great deal, behind his Occlumency shields, and since his discussion with Snape he'd also spent a lot of time planning what to do about her murder. Soon, very soon, he would make his move.

He snapped himself back to the present, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed his distraction, and made a show of striding purposefully into the nearest house.

Muggle, he noted immediately. This village was - had been - mixed, both wizarding and Muggle. The Dark Lord disapproved of such intermingling, and was finally strong enough to strike out openly.

Death Eaters had already gone through this house. The door hung off its hinges, and inside furniture was overturned.

He found the family's corpses in one of the bedrooms, the blonde Muggle mother spread out across the bodies of her two sons in what had clearly been a futile effort to protect them. There was not a mark on them; presumably they had been killed by the Killing Curse. The father - or what Draco assumed had been the body of the father - was another matter.

_So much blood. This almost has to be Bellatrix's work._

The room was filled with the acrid smell of smoke. Draco had wondered, as he'd climbed the stairs, what kind of torture they'd used on the Muggles that had involved burning, and had been half-relieved to see that a burning candle had evidently been knocked over during the attack and the flames were spreading. For a moment, he considered extinguishing the fire, then he lowered his wand again.

_What's the point? They're already dead. Let the house burn._

He turned away and walked slowly back down the stairs, and realised that he couldn't stand to continue like this for a moment longer. He would do it now, tonight.

_Let everything burn._

It was risky, of course. But what did he have left to lose? This couldn't continue.

Draco stopped at the foot of the stairs and Apparated back to the Dark Lord's headquarters. He had a cup to steal.

**IX**

Bellatrix strode through the corridors of the Dark Lord's headquarters, and the fury on her face was such that other Death Eaters moved hastily out of her way, even those who hadn't yet heard what had happened. Only a fool would want to draw Bellatrix Lestrange's attention when that expression was on her face and her wand was drawn.

There were only two people Bellatrix could think of who might conceivably have assisted Draco Malfoy in breaking into the warded room in the dungeons - and she was very curious as to what had been in there, but she had known better than to ask while her master was so furious - and escaping afterwards. If Bellatrix discovered that one of them _had_ helped the boy, she would greatly enjoy taking her revenge on them.

She did not deign to knock on the door to Pansy Parkinson's room; she simply swept in, wand raised.

Draco Malfoy's betrothed had heard of his betrayal, Bellatrix saw at once, and if her rage was feigned, then she was a far better actress than Bellatrix had ever suspected. Pansy was pale, with two spots of high colour on her cheeks; her left sleeve was pulled back and she was holding her wrist painfully close to the flame of a black candle that was floating in mid-air. She was chanting loudly, her voice harsh with fury.

Bellatrix recognised both the ritual with the candle and the curse Pansy was casting, and felt her lips slip into a cruel smile of approval. Pansy was using the candle to shatter the betrothal bond, but taking advantage of its existence until it dissolved in order to curse the traitor through it. The pain inflicted by the curse she was using was several steps below the Cruciatus Curse, since Pansy would be experiencing the agony too and no one could hold a curse involving such pain on themselves, but it was still a formidable curse.

Some people turned cold when they were furious - Severus Snape for one, the traitor, and oh, she would make him scream for this, scream for hours. Others - like Bellatrix herself, and Pansy, clearly - had a rage like fire that left them incandescent with fury, consuming all around them.

She took a strange and savage pleasure in knowing that she had not been mistaken in her assessment of this girl.

Pansy's eyes snapped up from her wrist and met Bellatrix's gaze, and she brought her chant to a close, gritting her teeth in agony as she did so. Her head snapped back as the full force of the curse passed through her, and Bellatrix admired the agonised curve of her throat with a connoisseur's eye.

"My Lady Bellatrix," Pansy said a few moments later, when she had recovered enough to speak, although Bellatrix could still see the tremors running through her from the pain. "May I request your assistance? He deserves far worse than I can inflict."

Bellatrix smiled, the smile that had been the last thing many traitors had ever seen. "Are you sure? It will affect you equally, after all."

"I'm sure," Pansy breathed. "I was allied to a traitor, and did not realise. Please."

Bellatrix raised her wand and directed her curse to the girl's wrist, where the betrothal bond was strongest. "_Crucio_."

The girl screamed and screamed and screamed, but Bellatrix noticed with growing approval that she'd had the good sense to cast a spell to hold herself in place before she'd started her ritual. The candle continued burning.

When the candle finally burnt out several minutes later, Bellatrix could actually see the betrothal bond shatter and vanish. She lifted her curse with a touch of regret, and Pansy crumpled to the floor.

Bellatrix Levitated the girl onto the bed, and gently pushed the hair back from her pale face. Pansy did not stir; Bellatrix knew it would probably take her several hours to recover from being under the Cruciatus Curse for that long.

She turned and left the room, closing the door and placing a strong charm on it to ensure that the girl would not be disturbed. Then she started up the corridor.

_This time, Severus Snape, you have gone too far, and I will see to it that you scream a hundred times as long as she did in payment for your treachery._

**X**

It had been a terrible night, Harry thought numbly as he walked slowly up the road. They had driven off the Death Eaters eventually, but it had taken hours, and dozens of Muggles and several wizarding families were dead. One of the houses had caught or been set on fire, and the blaze had spread; once the Death Eaters were gone, he had joined in the efforts to bring the fire back under control.

Ron and Hermione had been there, staying close together. Harry had been glad to see them, but had hated the bitter grief in Ron's eyes as he fought.

And now he was exhausted and soot-streaked and wanted nothing more than to sleep without dreaming for about twelve hours. He'd even considered Apparating directly into his tiny house, but had forced himself to Apparate to just outside the little Muggle village instead, as usual. Very few people knew where he was staying, and that was how he wanted to keep it. That meant no wards that might draw attention, no Apparating directly there in case someone managed to follow, no -

Harry stopped in his tracks, his wand immediately in his hand despite his exhaustion as his brain processed what he was seeing. There was a faint glow coming from inside his house, as if someone had lit their wand.

If Hermione or Ron or any of the Order had been there, Harry knew, they would have insisted that he Apparate away immediately. But they weren't there, and he was, and right now his exhaustion was giving way to rage.

It took him only a minute to slip around to the back door, let himself in and creep along the corridor to the living room door. He paused for a moment, bracing himself, then entered, wand-first.

The light had been a candle, he saw, one of the horribly tacky ones that had come with the house and which he'd never quite got around to throwing out. Behind it sat Draco Malfoy.

The only thing that stopped the curse on Harry's lips was the sight of Malfoy's wand, lying on the floor between the door Harry had just entered by and the table on which the candle was placed.

"Hello, Potter," Malfoy said, his nonchalant tone not quite masking his tension.

Harry kept his wand trained on him, glancing quickly around the room to make sure they were alone, and then stared at him. "Malfoy. What the fuck?"

Malfoy gave a twisted smile. "I thought this might go a little smoother if I wasn't armed when you came in. Go ahead, take my wand."

Careful not to let his aim waver, Harry wrapped his cloak around the wand and picked it up that way. He wasn't about to risk it being a Portkey. Then he moved cautiously forward to take the chair opposite Malfoy. "I repeat, Malfoy, what the fuck is going on?"

"I would have thought that was obvious," Malfoy said, with just a flash of his usual sneer. Harry gritted his teeth, but it passed quickly. "I want to defect, Potter."

Harry stared at him. He almost wanted to laugh in disbelief, but now he was remembering Dumbledore talking to this boy on top of one of Hogwarts' towers, the way Malfoy's wand had lowered a fraction before the Death Eaters had come bursting in, the newspaper report he'd read about Narcissa Malfoy's death.

_Dumbledore would have wanted you to listen._

And Malfoy had given him his wand, and was staring at him, a curiously trapped look in his eyes. Possibly, just possibly, he was serious, Harry thought. He wasn't prepared to lower his wand yet, though.

"Why did you come here?" Harry asked.

Malfoy shrugged stiffly. "I don't trust the Ministry as far as I could Banish them. At least I know you. And as far as I can see, if anyone has any idea of how to bring down that murdering _bastard_, it's you. It wasn't easy to find you, I'll give you that."

Harry absorbed that. "What exactly is it you expect me to do for you, Malfoy?"

"I expect you to take down the Dark Lord," Malfoy said slowly. "And I want to help you do it. Of course, if you could help me to survive defecting, that would certainly be a plus. Speaking of help, I brought something for you -" He paused, and eyed Harry. "It's in my pocket. I swear by Merlin that I'm not reaching for a weapon. Don't hex me, all right?" He waited for Harry to nod, then reached slowly into his robes and removed a small wooden box, which he set carefully down on the table.

"What is it?" Harry asked, without moving.

"Something I -" Malfoy broke off with a sudden hiss of pain, bringing his right hand across to clutch at his left wrist.

Harry's eyes narrowed. "Your Mark?" _That certainly would lend a bit of weight to his story_.

"No," Malfoy muttered, releasing his breath slowly, "I hadn't been Marked yet. I don't know what - oh. Fuck. Pansy." He caught his breath again, face creasing with pain that Harry did not think was feigned.

"Pansy?" he asked. "Pansy Parkinson?"

"I never thought," Malfoy said through gritted teeth. "We're betrothed -"

"_Betrothed?_" Harry said involuntarily, surprised at how surprised he was. All right, he'd known that Malfoy and Parkinson were close, but...

Malfoy almost managed a smile. "Whatever romantic Gryffindor tosh you're thinking of, Potter, forget it. Our families arranged it when we were children - pure-bloods tend not to leave these things to chance. The ceremony took place when we were ten." He grimaced again, and Harry wondered whether it was at the memory or the pain. "Pansy's evidently learned what I've done, and she's shattering the betrothal bond - and casting some kind of pain spell through it while it's breaking, from the feel of it." He rubbed his wrist, and looked up to meet Harry's eyes. "_Damn_, she's stronger than I gave her credit for. I think it only takes half an hour or so for the bond to break, though. After that -" He caught his breath again, and Harry noted how laboured his breathing was becoming.

Malfoy had never been that good an actor.

"Would a pain-relieving spell help at all?" Harry asked, trying to keep his tone even.

Malfoy looked up at him. "No idea, to be honest, but if you're offering..."

Harry cast the spell, carefully directing it at the wrist Malfoy offered out to him. Part of his attention, though, was on Malfoy's un-Marked forearm.

Malfoy let out a short gasp of relief and closed his eyes for a moment. "Thanks, Potter. That actually did help a bit."

"Good," Harry said, still very uncertain of how to feel about any of this. "So what's in that box?"

"It's a -" Malfoy broke off, then suddenly screamed and collapsed off his seat and onto the floor.

The remaining doubts Harry had harboured about Malfoy's sincerity and story were suddenly irrelevant. Those screams were all too genuine, and all too familiar.

_Cruciatus_.

Harry shoved the table out of the way and cast several pain-relieving spells in quick succession, but without noticeable effect. Malfoy continued screaming, thrashing frantically. There was nothing else Harry could think of to do; whoever was casting the curse was too far away. All he could do was wait, and hope that Malfoy had been right that the bond would shatter soon.

Assuming that Malfoy even survived that long.

The minutes dragged past. Harry felt wretchedly helpless; he could half-remember, in that unreal way in which people remember pain, how it had felt to be under the Cruciatus Curse. He could not help but sympathise with Malfoy.

Finally, finally, Malfoy cut off in mid-scream. For a terrible moment, Harry thought he had died, but a quick check revealed a pulse fluttering erratically beneath his fingertips. Malfoy's face was a ghastly shade of grey and bathed in sweat; blood was trickling down from where he'd bitten through his lip. He was clearly unconscious, but he was breathing.

Harry drew in a deep, shuddering breath and released it. If it had been someone else and not Malfoy, he would have Apparated them to St Mungo's. But this _was_ Malfoy, and he didn't dare seek outside help.

As gently as he could, he Levitated Malfoy's body up the stairs to the second bedroom, and Summoned the first aid kit from the kitchen while going over the few healing spells he knew. He was grimly pleased to see that he still had a bottle of a general healing potion.

_Malfoy, of all people_. Harry shook his head in disbelief as he worked. But another thought was also lurking just below the surface.

_Dumbledore would be pleased_.

**XI**

Draco moaned and struggled against the darkness, which appeared to have sunk claws in deep beneath his skin. It was far too dark.

He was vaguely aware of a voice saying "Shhh, Malfoy", but found it impossible to achieve any focus. Everything was confused and chaotic and there was no way out. It was too dark, inside and outside and in between -

"Here," the voice said, and suddenly there was light, oh thank Merlin there was light, and he was almost sobbing with relief.

"Shhh, it's okay," the voice said again. "Here, try to drink this -"

Cold glass at his lips, cold liquid in his mouth, and cool relief spreading through him and easing pain he hadn't even realised he was feeling and the darkness rising up to embrace him -

~*~

Haziness. Heaviness.

Draco heard himself moan and tried to open his eyes, but his body was not about to cooperate.

"Shhh, it's okay," a voice said softly, and Draco felt a pain-relieving spell being cast on him. He was almost embarrassingly grateful as the darkness stopped spinning and the trembling in his limbs eased.

He felt something cool and damp and wonderful being pressed gently to his forehead, and took a moment to cling on to that feeling and just breathe before he tried to open his eyes again.

The world was wavering somewhat, but he appeared to be lying down in a small, unfamiliar room. The room was dimly lit, but a candle was burning on the bedside table. Draco stared at it in hazy relief for several seconds before he even realised that someone was sitting beside the bed.

"Potter," he whispered after staring for a moment, and was dimly surprised at how scratchy his voice sounded.

"Malfoy," Potter replied softly. "How are you feeling?"

Draco let his eyes fall closed again and pondered that. It was a good question. A good question requiring a lot of thought. _Hmmmmmmm..._

He was vaguely aware of a murmured "Rest, Malfoy," as he sank back down into the soothing darkness.

~*~

When Draco next awoke, the world seemed far less blurred, and the pain was a dull ache that permeated his body, rather than the agony he could almost recall.

Potter was still sitting by his bedside, watching him closely, but the candle had burned down some way since he last recalled being awake.

"Do you feel up to taking some more healing potion?" Potter asked after studying him for a moment.

Draco managed a careful nod without feeling like his head would fall off, and obediently drank the potion Potter held to his lips, before sinking back gratefully onto the bed.

"If you want, I could try to get a healer to come here," Potter said quietly. "It's probably too risky to take you to St Mungo's, but about all I can manage are pain-relieving charms and basic healing potions. I think Madam Pomfrey would come if I asked her..."

"No," Draco said, not even having to think about it. "I don't want anyone - I don't - no, please, Potter, don't. I feel much better already. It's too risky, and besides, a healer wouldn't be able to do much more than that anyway, we both know that."

Potter sighed. "I... If you're sure, Malfoy. But if you change your mind, or start feeling worse, let me know."

"Mmmmmm," Draco murmured non-committally. He had no intention of letting anyone else in on this. Right now, both sides of this war wanted him dead.

Except, apparently, Potter.

_Thank you, Pansy. You may have half-killed me, but it seems to have at least convinced Potter I was telling him the truth, so you may just have saved my life, too._

He didn't even realise he'd been speaking aloud until Potter murmured, "Actually, you'd already convinced me, you know. I just tend to be a bit warier, these days; I wanted to know a bit more before I decided."

Draco winced. If he couldn't keep track of when he was speaking and when he was thinking, he was in a worse state than he'd realised.

"Malfoy, no, don't worry about it - it's... look, I've felt the Cruciatus Curse before, all right? Not for anything like as long as you did, but I remember how it affected me. Give yourself a break. You need sleep. Let me cast that pain-relieving spell again."

Cool, soothing magic passed through him and eased the faint ache Draco had been feeling. He half-wanted to protest, to continue his conversation with Potter, but Potter had been right - he needed sleep.

~*~

When Draco opened his eyes, the candle had burned out and light was filtering between the curtains. He felt... tired, and a little shaky, but something vaguely verging on normal again.

Potter had evidently dozed off in his chair. Draco took the opportunity to study him, really study him in a way that he hadn't had the chance to do for a long time.

Potter looked exhausted, utterly worn out. Admittedly, he must have spent most of the night watching over Draco, but Draco thought his weariness looked too bone-deep to be the result of a single night's lost sleep.

_Probably driving himself far too hard, stupid Gryffindor that he is._

He was surprised, somewhat, that Potter had been so ready to believe him, given... well, given everything. He'd have to ask Potter about that when he woke up.

Draco leaned back and allowed his eyes to slide shut again. There would be time for all of that. Later.

**XII**

Andromeda Tonks' first thought when her cousin Regulus Black Apparated into her kitchen was: _Finally_.

Because in truth, she had been expecting the Death Eaters to come after her and her family since the Dark Lord had risen to power. She had taken every possible precaution - she had immersed them fully in the Muggle world over a year ago, she had not used her magic once since, and she had remained as quiet and nondescript as she could.

And she had watched, and waited, and kept her wand always with her, ready for when they came after her family.

Her second thought, even as she dropped the candles she'd been arranging on her husband's birthday cake and reached up to pull her wand out from where it was anchored in her hair (over a year she'd kept it there; her Muggle friend Rosie teased her incessantly about never letting her hair down) and her hair tumbled down around her, was that she was glad her daughter had not been there when it finally happened.

Her third thought, as she brought her wand up to point at Regulus and opened her mouth to cast the Killing Curse, was that she was surprised that they had sent only one Death Eater.

"Andromeda," Regulus gasped, his eyes wide, "please, wait, let me explain -" He dropped his wand and kicked it off to the side, out of his reach.

It was probably the only gesture that could have saved his life at that moment, Andromeda thought cynically, but she still wasn't about to take any chances. She Stunned him, conjured cords around him and then a magical barrier too for good measure. Only then did she bend to pick up his wand, before retreating a few metres to study the Death Eater lying crumpled on her kitchen floor.

She was trembling slightly now that the initial danger was past, she realised dimly, and forced her shock aside.

It had been years since she'd seen her cousin, and they had not been kind to him. His face was horribly pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes. Even unconscious, his body was shaking.

She took a deep breath, double-checked the barrier around him, and murmured "_Ennervate_."

Regulus groaned and opened his eyes. Andromeda made sure he could see that her wand was pointing directly at him. He nodded slightly, and gave a twisted kind of smile. "A warmer welcome than I expected, to be honest."

"How did you find me?" Andromeda demanded.

"Luck, mostly. And desperation." Regulus slowly forced himself into a more upright position. "It's not important - what matters is the reason I'm here. I'm dying, Andromeda."

That gave her pause for a moment, and she took in his pallor again. He did look - "Tell me," she said abruptly, keeping her voice devoid of all emotion.

"I've betrayed _him_," Regulus said, his voice cracking with terror and exultation. "I figured out what he -" He broke off into a fit of coughing, and took several moments to regain his breath. "I've taken something he values, something he needs. A locket. It's going to help to destroy him. But getting to it - there was a potion... I'm dying." He laughed, a little wildly, and began coughing again. "They'll kill me when they catch up to me anyway. I'm dead either way."

Andromeda stared at him and tried to decide how much she could believe. _Certainly that he's dying. And given that, why would he lie?_

"That doesn't explain why you came _here_," she observed coldly. "What does any of that have to do with me?"

Regulus gave a shuddering little laugh. "Who else could I trust? Bellatrix will want to kill me herself. Merlin knows what Narcissa would do, I've never known what she really thinks about anything. My brother... The Dark Lord has a spy in his group, and I don't know who. I couldn't risk it. Besides, he's a Gryffindor to the bone, he wouldn't have listened to me. You were the only one I could be sure wasn't in league with the Dark Lord."

Andromeda felt a sudden burning rage. "How _dare_ you. How dare you come here and assume I'll help you! I've spent years trying to protect my family, to keep them safe and out of this war, and you dare to Apparate here, knowing they're after you!"

"I'm sorry," Regulus said softly. "I _am_ sorry. But I don't have long, and I had to give the locket to someone. You're right, they'll come here looking for me, and when they realise it was you I came to, they'll chase you too. I was able to find you even though you hadn't been using your magic - you're blood of my blood, no way to undo that. If Bellatrix really looks, she'll find you. You can't protect your family by staying with them." He lapsed into another coughing fit as Andromeda fought the urge to close her eyes.

He was right. If he had found her, Bellatrix could too. And when she realised he had turned traitor and come here, she would hunt him down, and then Andromeda too. Bellatrix had never been one for half-measures.

"Andromeda? What -" Ted Tonks stopped in the doorway to take in the scene, then crossed to her side. Andromeda wished for a moment that he still carried his wand with him, but reminded herself sternly that the whole point had been for them to fit into the Muggle world.

She said simply, "We have a problem. The Death Eaters can find me - and now that my cousin has come here, they are going to be hunting me."

Ted stared at Regulus, still bound and imprisoned behind her wards. "Then we'll leave - we'll find somewhere to hide."

Andromeda shook her head, and felt tears burning her eyes. She forced them back. "Not quite. They can find me. So you need to take Nymphadora and go. Hide somewhere, don't tell me where. Don't use magic. When You-Know-Who is gone, I'll find you."

Ted's eyes were wide, and he was shaking his head. "You - Andromeda, no, I'm not leaving you -"

"Nymphadora has to be protected," Andromeda said sharply. She had been a Tonks for many years now, but at some level she was still a Black, and capable of taking ruthless decisions when she had to. "We've no time to debate this, Ted. _Please_ don't argue with me."

He wanted to, she could tell, but he recognised the tone of her voice, the tone she had so rarely used around him, and simply shook his head and kissed her cheek.

She accepted the kiss, keeping most of her attention on the Death Eater on the floor. "Go," she whispered.

He left, and she bowed her head and tried to regain control of herself.

Regulus was looking worse, she realised; his breath was rasping horribly now. They didn't have much time. She waved her wand and the barrier and ropes fell away, then threw him his wand. He caught it, just.

"Come on," Andromeda ordered. "Quickly."

When the Death Eaters Apparated in twenty minutes later, the house was deserted.

**XIII**

"You were not easy to find, Mr Potter," the woman at the door said drily. "Had my daughter not assisted me, I would probably still be searching."

Harry stared at her. Long brown hair tumbled loosely around a fine-boned face; the woman was tall and her eyes were intent. There was something oddly familiar about her. He kept his wand at the ready, although she did not appear to pose an immediate threat, and only a very few trusted people knew where he was staying. Besides, he rather doubted that a Death Eater would have simply walked up and knocked on the door.

"I'm sorry," he said as politely as he could, "but can I ask who you are?"

The woman's eyes glinted. "My name is Andromeda Tonks. I believe you know my daughter Nymphadora - and knew my cousin Sirius. May I come in, Mr Potter? I have something for you."

Taken aback, Harry stood aside and allowed her to enter, and studied her as she glanced around at the small living room. He could now see a faint resemblance to Tonks as she had appeared during most of his sixth year, but her mother's appearance was subtly sterner. Harry found himself slightly nervous and wishing again that he'd cleared away the horrible Muggle pictures on the wall and the tacky candles on the windowsill. But he'd spent almost no time in this house, and besides, he'd hardly expected so many _visitors_.

"Would you like to sit down, Mrs Tonks?" Harry asked finally, wishing he knew why she was there.

Andromeda gave him a small smile and sat down gracefully. "Thank you, Mr Potter." She studied him for a moment. "I'm pleased to have an opportunity to meet you at last. I've always hoped to be able to thank you for inadvertently saving my life seventeen years ago."

Harry frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"I was under attack from a number of Death Eaters the night that the Dark Lord came to your family's house all those years ago," Andromeda said softly. "When You-Know-Who perished, his followers left to ascertain what had happened. That saved my life."

Harry swallowed. This visit was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. "I'm afraid I didn't -"

"No, of course not," Andromeda waved aside his objections. "I merely wished to explain one of the reasons I am glad to -"

She broke off suddenly, turning terribly pale, her eyes widening. Harry turned around to see what had caught her attention and found Malfoy standing on the bottom stair, wand in hand, staring back at Andromeda with evident shock.

"Cissy," Andromeda whispered, and then seemed to regain control. "I'm sorry, I - you can only be Draco, my sister Narcissa's son."

It was Malfoy's turn to pale. "You're... Andromeda Black?"

The woman's laughter was bitter. "They took away my right to call myself a Black. I am a Tonks now." She shook her head wonderingly. "You look so much like Narcissa. I - I heard something of what happened to her. You have my condolences."

Malfoy turned a shade paler, and instead of responding crossed to another chair and sat down, never taking his eyes off his aunt. Harry looked from one to the other, and felt like kicking himself for not having made the connection earlier.

Andromeda appeared to forcibly pull herself together. "The reason I came here, Mr Potter, is to bring you an object that was left in my care seventeen years ago. I assume you are familiar with the name Regulus Black?"

"He was Sirius's brother," Harry said slowly. "Which would make him your cousin."

Andromeda nodded. "I presume you are aware that he was a Death Eater?"

"Sirius told me. He said that Regulus tried to leave and was killed on Voldemort's orders."

A faint wince passed across Andromeda's face at the name, but she nodded. "Before he died, however, he came to me, and gave me an object to protect after his death. He didn't have time to reveal exactly what was so special about this object, but he told me that it would be essential to ensuring the Dark Lord's eventual defeat."

Harry stared at her, the pieces falling into place. "Mrs Tonks - this object. It wouldn't by any chance be a gold locket?"

He could feel Malfoy staring at him in confusion, but his attention was wholly on Andromeda, who was now giving him a small smile of satisfaction.

"I was correct to think that you were the one to bring it to, I see," she said, and removed a small wooden box from the pocket of her robes, which she passed to Harry.

Hardly daring to breathe, Harry carefully opened it. Inside was the gold locket he had seen in Dumbledore's Pensieve.

_Dumbledore_. Harry swallowed hard and set aside all the emotions this cast up for him. He carefully put the lid back on the box and met Andromeda's eyes. "Thank you very much, Mrs Tonks," he said softly. "I -"

Andromeda shook her head. "No, Mr Potter. Thank you, but I don't wish to know any more about the locket's significance. It was not by choice that I became even this involved in opposing the Dark Lord. Now that I have passed the locked on to you, I will return to my husband." She rose, then hesitated for a moment, her gaze turning back to Malfoy. "Draco - your mother and I had not been close for many years, but... I owed her a great deal. If there is ever anything I can do for you, please let me know."

"Thank you," Malfoy said quietly, his voice expressionless.

"And you too, Mr Potter," Andromeda continued. "I was closer to your godfather Sirius than almost anyone else in my family. Please, come and visit me when you can."

Harry nodded, slightly dazed, and thanked her.

Moments later, after shutting the door behind his second unexpected visitor of the week, Harry returned to find Malfoy still sitting in the living room, looking as though his thoughts were miles away. He glanced up after a moment, and gave a shaky laugh. "Of all the people I expected to find you talking to, Potter, that was..." He shook his head in disbelief.

"How are you feeling?" Harry asked, deciding to change the subject.

"Better," Malfoy admitted, lips thinning at the reminder of his condition just the previous night. "I don't suppose you've got anything to eat around here, Potter? I imagine you have rather a lot of questions, now that I'm conscious."

"Quite a lot," Harry agreed. "But you've convinced me you're not here to try to kill me, at least, so I don't mind asking them over breakfast. Come on through to the kitchen."

**XIV**

Hermione glanced up from the tome she had been skim-reading her way through and cast a wary look at Harry and Malfoy.

She'd had very mixed feelings about coming to Malfoy Manor to search through the books there for information on Horcruxes. Oh, she'd seen the logic of it: the Malfoys had a rather impressive, if frightening, collection on Dark magic. But she had far from given up all her suspicions of Draco Malfoy. Snape had taught her that trusting people too easily led to those she loved dying. She wasn't about to let that happen again. Harry could insist until he was hoarse that Malfoy really was on their side; she was not about to trust him.

She felt somewhat guilty about allowing Harry to become this close to Malfoy. Perhaps if she and Ron had stayed fully involved in the search for the Horcruxes - but Ron had been so devastated by the deaths of so many members of his family that she'd been focused completely on him. They'd fought with the Order, but most of their time had been spent grieving and trying to heal.

The notion of Harry going alone with Malfoy to Malfoy Manor had set alarm bells ringing in her head, however, and she and Ron had exchanged a single glance and simultaneously volunteered to accompany them.

She watched Harry and Malfoy closely. They were examining the bookshelves together, talking in hushed whispers. She watched, feeling unsettled, as Harry straightened from his crouch and touched Malfoy's elbow. It was just a small gesture, but it set alarm bells ringing in Hermione's head again. There weren't many people Harry would have felt comfortable touching like that.

Ron squeezed her hand and she turned and managed a smile for him.

"Everything all right?" he asked quietly.

She sighed, and answered him honestly. "I'm a bit uneasy about Harry and Malfoy."

Ron nodded, glancing over to where they were still scouring the bookshelves. "Well, you know I'm the last person to trust a Malfoy. But Harry's not stupid, and he's got no reason to love Malfoy either. If he says Malfoy's changed, and if Malfoy's helping him, I don't know what we can do but accept that."

Hermione pushed aside a shudder of apprehension at the phrase _reason to love_ and nodded. "I know you're right. I just can't help worrying that Harry's going to get hurt, one way or another."

"We'll keep an eye on Malfoy," Ron promised in a low voice. "Come on, let's finish up with these books. The sooner we check through them, the sooner we can all leave this creepy place."

Hermione smiled at him again, and returned her concentration to the musty tome in front of her.

~*~

"You sure you're okay?" Harry murmured, ostensibly reading the titles of the books in front of him, but with more than half of his attention on Draco's pale face.

"Fine," Draco said shortly. "Found anything?"

"This section's mostly on candle magic," Harry said, pulling out a book at random and eyeing the image on the cover, "don't know how relevant that would be. Look, if you want to talk about it..."

"I don't," Draco bit out. "And I can't see it being relevant, unless some of the protections use candle magic. Something about immortality, or souls, or maybe even possession, might be a better bet."

"I know it can't be easy for you, coming back here," Harry persisted, crouching down to examine the lower shelves.

"Your point being?" Draco said icily, removing a book from the shelf to check its contents.

Harry sighed, and didn't look up. "I just wish that you trusted me enough to be able to talk to me about it, that's all. I wish I could help."

They stared at the shelves in silence for several moments, and Harry had almost given up on a reply when Draco whispered, "It was just a few rooms away from here. The reception room next to the main entrance. You may have seen it when we arrived."

Harry had, though only in passing; Draco had steered them around it. He straightened from his crouch to look at Draco, listening quietly now.

"I think she suspected," Draco admitted. "That he would do that, I mean. She told me that she was proud of me." He swallowed, and Harry could not stop himself from reaching out and touching his arm.

"It wasn't your fault," Harry said fiercely. "You do know that, don't you? He'd have done it anyway. It was your father he was trying to punish, not you."

Draco shook his head wordlessly. "I do know that. Most of the time, anyway. But you know what it's like." He looked up suddenly to meet Harry's eyes. "Besides, you're one to talk, oh guilt-addicted Gryffindor."

Harry couldn't help but flush slightly at that. "Fine, so I'm an idiot too."

Draco managed a full-blown smirk for the first time since they'd arrived at Malfoy Manor. "I've been telling you that since we first met. Apparently even Gryffindors can pick things up eventually. Who knew?"

Harry swatted him and turned his attention back to the bookshelves, feeling better than he had since they'd first decided to risk visiting the Manor for a couple of hours.

**XV**

Andromeda Black stormed into her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, her parents' ultimatum still ringing in her ears. She pulled her Hogwarts trunk out from under the bed and began throwing her belongings into it, furiously brushing away a stray tear that dared to fall.

She refused to let them reduce her to tears.

When most of her things were packed, she paused to glance around the room to see if she'd missed anything important, then sank down to sit on the bed she would never sleep in again.

She would miss her room.

She hadn't truly believed they would go so far as to disown her. Oh, she'd been entirely aware of her family's views, and she'd known they would find it difficult to accept that she wanted to marry Ted, but she'd thought -

Well. She'd been wrong, and that was that.

She ran one hand across the quilt that her grandmother had charmed to remain warm at all times, stared across at the mirror that had advised her on her appearance since she was five, and looked up at the painting that had hung in her room for as long as she could remember.

Andromeda had always loved that painting, although it was an oddity. Unlike most of the other paintings in the house, it wasn't a portrait; it showed a quiet library, filled with bookshelves, with a window at the far end, the scene out of which changed with the seasons. There was a table in the foreground, empty except for a single candle, always burning. Andromeda had been scared of the dark, as a young child, and the light of the candle had always comforted her.

"I'll miss you," she said softly to the painting.

To her astonishment, a young woman stepped out from behind one of the painting's bookshelves, watching her solemnly. "You are to be cast out and disowned?"

Andromeda stared at her. The people in the portraits sometimes went to visit each other, but she had never seen any of them enter this painting before. For that matter, she didn't recognise this woman from any of the portraits. "Who are you? I've never seen you there before."

The woman's laughter was tinged with bitterness, but she came forward to sit at the table. "My name is Isla Black. An ancestor of yours, I believe."

Andromeda tried to place the name. "I've never heard of you. My aunt has a tapestry going back centuries, and you're not on it..."

"It would surprise me if I were," the woman said softly. "The Blacks tend to erase those who do not meet their standards. Do you think any of them will remember your name a few generations from now, young lady? You will be removed from that tapestry within days, if what I have heard is true."

Andromeda felt her eyes burn. It was true, she knew, but it still hurt. "What did you do to make them remove you?"

"I married a Muggle," Isla said simply.

There was a moment of silence before Andromeda whispered, "Ted - he's Muggle-born. My parents are disowning me. I'm going to lose my whole family."

Isla raised her eyebrows. "You are a Slytherin, I presume? And you are certainly a Black. In all the games we play, there sometimes comes a point when a decision must be made. The gift of the Blacks is to be ruthless in the face of such decisions. Tell me, which would be worse: living without your family, or living without this Ted?"

Andromeda swallowed hard. "I love him. I can't - my parents despise me anyway. I've made my choice. I'm not giving him up."

The woman in the painting smiled at her. "That was not so difficult, was it? May your choice bring you as much happiness as mine brought me, Andromeda Black."

Slowly, Andromeda smiled back, and felt the beginnings of hope inside her. "Thank you, Isla Black." She stood up, shrunk her case, and closed the door quietly behind her.

Isla Black sighed, lost in thought for a moment, then focused on the candle. "She will need to find her own light in the darkness now." She blew it out, then wandered slowly back out of sight behind the bookshelf.

**XVI**

In retrospect, Harry realised that he should really have seen it coming. Then again, he'd never seen most things coming where Draco was concerned.

In some respects, things had happened between them very gradually. He'd never planned to let Draco stay, but he'd had to keep an eye on him in the first few days after the Cruciatus Curse. After that, Draco had stayed while they'd figured out how to use the potion Snape had given him to neutralise the cup. And somewhere around about that point, Harry had properly accepted that Malfoy's change in loyalties was genuine, and even started to trust him enough to explain about the Horcruxes.

He wasn't sure exactly when they'd shifted to first-name terms.

There had never really been a conscious decision that Draco would stay with him. They didn't spend a great deal of time at the house anyway; most days were spent researching Horcruxes and ways of destroying them, or chasing down leads on their potential hiding places. A great many evenings were spent fighting Death Eaters, when the Order sent warning that an attack was expected or underway.

There had never been a moment when Harry had wondered where exactly things were headed, because things just... were.

Right up until the moment when they'd changed.

It was all an accident, really. Draco had reached past Harry for something just as Harry had turned to say something to him; suddenly they were far too close, and Harry couldn't breathe.

It was like a candle catching alight somewhere inside him.

Their lips met tentatively, uncertainly, like a question. After a moment, they pulled back to stare at each other, and Harry reflected that he hadn't seen Draco look this uncertain and vulnerable since the Cruciatus Curse. It was almost disturbing how much he liked that fact - that this, that _he_, could affect Draco that deeply.

He leaned in again, and the uncertainty slowly faded away.

**XVII**

Bellatrix Black took a deep breath, but was unable to fully suppress the tremors of eager elation inside her. Her heart was beating faster, and it felt as if the night were singing all around her.

She had been waiting for this day since she had first heard of Lord Voldemort. And tonight, at long last, she would be granted the privilege of calling him 'Master'.

All her life, she had dreamed that a true leader would come and command the wizarding world to rise up against those who would cage them, Muggle animals and Mudblood mongrels and pure-blood traitors alike.

_Thank Merlin that I have lived to see this day_, she thought. _Do not let me fail him_.

Finally, the moment came, and she stepped into the centre of the circle of Death Eaters and knelt before her Lord.

"Bellatrix Black," Lord Voldemort said softly, and she thrilled to the sound of her name on his lips. Raising her head again, she accepted the knife from his hands and began her vows.

"I, Bellatrix Black, of the house of Black, offer myself to your service."

She touched the blade to the ground, then raised it into the air above her head. "By earth and by air, by water and by fire..." As she spoke, she dipped the blade into the bowl of water on the ground beside her, then passed it through the flame of the candle before her. "...I dedicate myself to you. Mind and magic, blood and bone, in life and in death, I acknowledge you as my Lord and Master." She sliced open her left arm as she spoke. Technically, a small, shallow cut would have sufficed; the skin merely had to be broken and produce a single drop of blood.

Bellatrix sliced from her elbow to her wrist, as deeply as she could, exulting in the pain, catching her breath at the beauty of the blood streaming down her arm. Glorying in the agony and the magic all around her, she raised her eyes to her Lord and offered up her arm to him.

The Dark Lord's eyes were glowing, and Bellatrix basked in the approval she saw there. "I accept you into my service, Bellatrix Black, and claim you for my own." He touched the tip of his wand to the gaping wound on her arm.

Bellatrix gasped, not in shock but in awe at the sensation, feeling the magic of his Mark sink into her, all the way to the bone, all the way to her soul, feeling him claim her and possess her utterly.

"Master," she whispered, as the wound closed over, leaving her with his beautiful Mark and her blood-stained flesh.

"Welcome, Bella," her master said softly, for her alone. "Rise now, and take your place within my circle. We have a world to remake."

**XVIII**

The first thing Harry was aware of, long before he was strong enough to open his eyes, was Draco Malfoy swearing.

"Of all the stupid, idiotic, utterly fucking insane, _Gryffindor_ things to do. The Boy With A Bloody Deathwish would be more like it."

Harry managed a faint sound of protest, which evidently drew Draco's attention, since he stopped swearing and twined his hand in Harry's hair instead, which was a definite improvement.

"Just lie still and don't try to talk, Harry," Draco's voice said more gently. "The potions I've given you are helping, but you were badly burned and it's going to take you some time to recover."

_Burned?_ Harry thought hazily, and then shards of memory slowly began to assemble themselves. The Ravenclaw Horcrux. Realising fire was the key to destroying it. The spell burning him like a candle when he tried to do so. Holding the spell anyway. Darkness.

"Sorry," he managed to croak, and succeeded in opening his eyes.

The room was dim and unfamiliar. Draco was standing beside his bed, his robes scorched and ash-streaked. He looked very tense.

"We'll discuss it when you've recovered," Draco said tightly. "How are you feeling?"

Harry considered that one for a moment. "Tired. Sore."

Draco picked up a bottle from the bedside table. "Think you could manage to take a pain-relieving potion?"

Harry nodded weakly, and managed to swallow when Draco held the potion to his lips. It took effect almost at once, and he let out a sigh of relief. "Thanks. Where are we?"

"Malfoy Manor," Draco said, his voice devoid of all emotion. "I couldn't risk taking you to St Mungo's, and this was the only place I knew would have the potions you needed. We'll have to move as soon as you're able, but I thought this would be safe for at least a few hours."

Harry swallowed hard. He had some idea of how difficult it was for Draco to return here. "Thank you, Draco."

The tension in Draco's frame eased slightly. "You're welcome." Abruptly, he stood up. "Rest for now, Harry. I'm going to take a quick look around. We'll have to leave in half an hour, so make the most of it, okay?"

"Okay," Harry agreed, letting his eyes fall shut again. "Be careful."

"You're a fine one to talk," Draco muttered, but Harry felt a hand gently touch his cheek before Draco's footsteps receded and sleep recaptured him.

**XIX**

Bellatrix looked around at the handful of Death Eaters who would be accompanying her that night.

They appeared to be ready. Pansy Parkinson caught her eye and smiled slowly, a smile of fierce anticipation of the task ahead. Bellatrix let her own feelings of triumph flicker briefly over her face before glancing around at the others.

"Very well," she said finally. "One more time: our Master has decided that the time has come for us to free his loyal servants. The moment of his triumph is very close now, and it is right that they should be present. You may deal with others you encounter as you wish, but our primary aim is to free the deserving and punish the disloyal. Are there any questions?"

There were not.

~*~

Returning to Azkaban was not a pleasant experience, and dredged up memories Bellatrix would have preferred to leave buried. She stared up at the fortress and took a deep breath, feeling her rage swirl up inside her.

A lot of old scores would be settled tonight.

Taking control of the prison proved almost laughably easy. Now that the Dementors had joined the Dark Lord, the Ministry was reliant upon wizards to stand guard in Azkaban, and as the Dark Lord had grown in strength, they'd been able to spare fewer and fewer wizards to do so. Bellatrix was almost disappointed at how easily they overcame what little resistance was offered, but contented herself with dealing with the two wizards present that were fully trained Aurors.

It was not difficult to destroy the wards around the prison cells, either. Bellatrix moved methodically from one cell to the next, until she caught sight of Pansy stepping into a cell at the far end of the corridor with a predatory smile on her face.

_This I want to see._

By the time Bellatrix reached the cell, Lucius was already screaming on the floor beneath Pansy's wand. Pansy had begged the Dark Lord for this honour, this vengeance, and while Bellatrix would have liked to deal with Lucius herself, the girl had earned it. And at least she could trust Pansy to deal with him properly.

Bellatrix watched with enjoyment as Pansy took her revenge, but after several minutes, satisfied that the girl had everything under control and was in no danger, she moved on down the corridor. He was close, she could feel it.

Three cells later, she found Rodolphus standing in the centre of his cell waiting for her, his eyes dark and intent in the dim light of the guttering candles.

Bellatrix crashed the wards with one snap of her wand, then kissed her husband hungrily, Lucius Malfoy's screams echoing intoxicatingly in her ears.

Now everything was in place, and her Master's final triumph was at hand.

**XX**

He didn't light candles for them all; so many had died on that one day alone that he would be as well lighting a bonfire.

He remembered them, though, pain, regret, fury and longing catching at his heart. He could recite all the names, remember the last image he had of each and every one of them. Fleur Delacour in her wedding dress, dying only hours after becoming a Weasley. Molly Weasley, with her wand in her hand, trying to protect her family. Both of the twins, and it seemed horribly wrong that he couldn't be sure which of them had died trying to shield Ginny and which had fallen in the initial moments of the attack. Bill, before his scars had even healed entirely; seventeen wedding guests.

He remembered them all, but now, one year on, the candle he lit was for Ginny.

He'd loved her, in his own way. She'd been heat and light and fire, and he'd backed away because of his fear that Voldemort would extinguish it.

The Death Eaters had killed her anyway, and the knowledge that it had been because of her family's role and her past involvement with Tom Riddle, not her relationship with Harry, did not change the fact that she was gone.

Harry closed his eyes and let the candlelight dance warm against his eyelids, and remembered her hair soft against his face. It seemed not just past, but unreal, like a dream he'd once had.

He'd survived her loss. He'd stopped dreaming about her now. He had Draco, and that was something strange and wonderful and uncontrollable. But tomorrow he was finally going to face a mortal Voldemort and avenge all those he'd loved and lost. Ginny. His parents. Sirius. The Weasleys. Cedric. So many others.

By this time tomorrow, it would finally be over, one way or the other.

**XXI**

Harry sat at the top of the hill, his arms wrapped around his knees, and gazed down at the valley where the battle had raged through most of the night. It was early now; the stars were fading, and the sky getting darker. He could no longer make out the details of the scene beneath him. The pinpricks of light where people had lit their wands, picking their way between the bodies, flickered like candle flames.

Off in the distance, someone was setting off fireworks.

Harry stared out at it all, and tried to feel something past the numbness.

Soft footsteps approached behind him. Harry tensed momentarily, then relaxed as Draco said quietly, "Here you are."

Harry didn't turn, didn't speak, and Draco apparently took that as tacit permission to sit down close beside him.

They sat in silence for a long moment, and Harry was almost startled when Draco suddenly said, "It's done."

He glanced across at Draco, who was watching him intently. Harry looked away again, and thought about that.

He was suddenly devoutly glad that Draco was here, someone who wouldn't congratulate him and expect him to celebrate, someone who would say 'it's done', not 'well done'. He sighed, and nodded.

"I'm glad it's done," he said, surprising himself. "I don't - I don't really know how to feel about any of this. And I don't know what's going to happen now. I guess I've a lot of decisions to make. But I'm glad it's over."

"You don't need to know everything right now," Draco said, his voice unusually gentle. "It's over. That means things you have time, now. You don't need to make all your decisions right this moment." His voice shifted and became brisk. "Now, stop sitting here like a lump, Potter. We'll go back to the house, have a good nig- day's sleep, I'll make us breakfast, and you can start off with the weighty decision of whether you want tea or coffee."

"Do you even know _how_ to make breakfast?" Harry enquired, allowing himself to be coaxed into a lighter mood despite himself.

Draco sniffed. "If Muggles can cook breakfast without even being able to use magic, _I_ can certainly figure out how to do so. It can't be all that hard."

Harry couldn't suppress a snort, and Draco grinned at him, then got to his feet. "Come on, Harry. Let's get out of here, and I'll prove all your doubts wrong."

_You already did_. Slowly, Harry clambered to his feet, and turned to face Draco in the greying pre-dawn light. Draco's eyes were warm, despite the concern in them, and Harry managed a real smile. "I want tea. Coffee is for the weak."

"Come here and say that," Draco threatened, stretching out a hand. Harry took it and let Draco draw him close.

Behind him, the sun came up at last.


End file.
